


What Pigs Do.

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-13
Updated: 2007-02-13
Packaged: 2019-01-19 15:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12413256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: It was disgust.  Contempt.  He felt nothing for her but revulsion.  She was the epitome of a swine, a bulbous, pasty, rancid pig.  And he hated her.  But, she was his wife, and he had no choice.Pollux Black/Irma Crabbe.





	What Pigs Do.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

He had masturbated before hand. It was a necessity; Pollux had found pondering this thought for a extensive amount of time, coming to the sole conclusion of what needed to be done. He had a formula, a perfect logical order of how it would’ve been handled. The man had sat in their gray bathroom, the long black curtains covering the windows behind his hunched over back as he set his plan into motion. His long finger were wrapped around the throbbing member, the large vein swelling as he gripped his penis tightly in his hand, sliding it up and down his long shaft. Harsh breaths escaped from his nostrils, his brow furrowed with rows of wrinkles as he stood hunched over, as if protecting his activity from the toilet and bathtub. One, two, three… the man kept his motion strong, picking up the pace when he felt his groin swell and the head of his penis redden before gradually fading into a bruised purple around the hole. His black eyelashes fluttered, eyes rolling in his head like loose marbles. “Ugh… fuck,” he grunted hoarsely. Pollux was close, and that was all he needed. With his masturbating hand, Pollux gently tucked his thick staff of flesh back into his trousers, not bothering to zip the closing.

He stepped outside into the main hallway and stood leaning against the craved chestnut railing, his hand resting atop the brass snake head that signaled the end of the stairs. He used it to keep his balance for his testicles already began to throb with pain, a shredding through his groin and a heart beat thudding like a war drum in his ear. Pollux could barely hear himself speak when he called out for her, that useless wench. That dirty cow. Pollux was not amused that she was laying upstairs in their “marriage bed”, awaiting him like a puppy searching for its master’s leg to fuck. He could picture her, those big brown eyes staring at the door, trying to look seductive on the bed though the only thing she ever had succeed in was making him ashamed. The way she attempted to hike up her nightgown and reveal her cellulite thighs, flaunting it like galleons in front of him. 

Pollux called for his bitch, and the dog came running. “Yes, Pollux?’ Her white nightgown ended at her knees, the woman’s hands shaking as she shielded her thick arms from his disapproving gaze. The woman flushed and averted her eyes downwards at the step her bare feet stood on. Pollux pointed, and it followed his finger like a compass. Her pudgy cheeks burned with pink as she gazed up at him finally, Pollux’s stone cold gray stare swallowing the stars in her eyes. Pollux wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, his fingernails digging into the mass of flesh as she winced visibly. He dragged her to the wall, slamming her against it like a criminal. She didn’t squeal like he had suspected her to when her cheek hit the solid wood wall. To be honest, a glimmer of disappointed gleamed in the stone surrounding his pupil. He had wanted her to hurt. Pollux needed her to pay for that ring with her tears. 

To think, he had never been a violent man before.

Pollux held her arm above her head, her plump face still pressed against the wall and lips squished like a freak goldfish, as he frisked her nightgown. He rode it up quickly, his penis already snaking from his pants and tangling, still erect, from the gaping hole in his pants. “P-Pollux, wait—“ Pollux’s father had told him that she was a virgin, not that Pollux had shown much surprise when he heard the news. “Pollux, please!” Pollux’s eyes never blinked and the straight line of emotion never left his lips as his hand ripped the fabric of her cotton panties, the crackling of torn cotton made her silent. The tears streamed down her round cheeks, rolling over her small chin to paint the floor with her shame and dot it with every ounce of embarrassment she felt as Pollux wrapped his fingers around her hips, pushing her bare backside out into the dark hallway. Pollux wasted no time for coddling his new bride, and he paid no attention to her desperate squeals as her face pressed into the wall with every violent thrust he gave her. The previous masturbation hadn’t allowed for any more then six rough thrusts before he came, his pelvis giving another jolt of energy from his orgasm. He hadn’t heard her squealing, but if he had, Pollux wouldn’t have listened.

That’s what pigs did: they squealed. 


End file.
